


rule of thirds

by aroceu, gayacidbaby



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Collaboration, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/aroceu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayacidbaby/pseuds/gayacidbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She dries her hands off on Shoyo’s shirt and lifts it over his shoulders and head. Her fingers are warm but the paint is cold and it makes him shiver when she colors his collar bones navy blue. She accents each of his ribs slowly. It tickles but he tries not to squirm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rule of thirds

 

The bristles on Shoyo’s paintbrush are stuck together again. He takes his thumb and his forefinger, licks them, separates the bristles. It’s going to happen again in two minutes, but this giant purple blob is going _somewhere_. He can feel it.

He almost doesn’t notice it at first when his cellphone on the table behind him buzzes. A minute later he goes, “Oh!” and turns around. His phone has darkened, and he clicks it back on.
    
    
    Are u busy right now?? do you want to get lunch? :D :D

Shoyo smiles at Hitoka’s text.
    
    
     im painting in the usual room. come find me!! ㄟ( ･ө･ )ㄏ

Shoyo goes back to forming the shape on his canvas. He gets so involved that it doesn’t register when Hitoka slips in with a pair of sandwiches. She walks up behind him, dips her finger in the vibrant green on Shoyo’s palette, and swipes it along his cheek.

“Hey!” Shoyo grins when he sees her. Hitoka’s green fingertip is next to her smiling face. “I didn’t see you.”

“I know,” she says.

She goes behind them and puts the tray of sandwiches on the table. “You’re not even hungry, are you?” she asks, walking back to the canvas.

Shoyo’s stomach rumbles, but when he looks at his paintbrush and the colors he’s already meshed together, he feels that more. “No,” he says, and Hitoka giggles.

She picks up a brush from the can behind them, dips it in Shoyo’s yellow acrylic. “I think this needs more,” she says, and does a large streak blurring right into a spot of blue.

Shoyo can’t let her get away with _that_ , much less the green that’s already on his face. His brush is red now, and he swipes it right across Hitoka’s forehead.

Some of it gets into her blond hair. She laughs, covering her palm in blue violet. She holds Shoyo’s face gently so her handprint on his cheek and ear doesn’t smear.

“Is this painting for a class?” she asks Shoyo.

He shakes his head no and says, “Just practice.” He follows the curves of her cheeks in yellow, careful to keep it out of her eyes. He puts his finger near her nostril, and she backs away.

“Don’t do that!” she says, giggling.

Shoyo doesn’t listen to her, says, “Hold on, I gotta get this paint in your nose!” Hitoka goes, “No!” and leans back even more.

From that position, she reaches over to the palette in his hands, dips a clean finger into the blue, and flicks down the bridge of Shoyo’s nose. Shoyo backs off and scrunches, like he’s trying to get it off. Hitoka laughs.

“That’s what you get,” she says.

Shoyo grins. Hitoka’s eyes flash in fear, and he slots the four finger tips of his right hand into the palette at the same time. She runs away before he gets a chance to touch her, and he chases after her, still carrying his paint.

“Come back here!” he calls. “I have more paint on you than you have on me!”

“No!” She giggles as she dives behind a stool at a table.

He crouches down and grabs her arm before she can get away. She yelps; the paint’s wet and heavy and colors her upper arm in a rainbow. “Wah!” she says, as he reaches for her face, too. His other hand is mostly dry from the paint he’d been using before, but some of the blue and green that haven’t dried get on her cheek and ear.

“There,” he says victoriously, sitting back.

But then Hitoka grins too. Shoyo moves his palette away as fast as he can, but not fast enough - Hitoka’s already dived at him, got a handful of paint, and goes for Shoyo’s hair.

Shoyo tries to back out from under the table, but nearly bumps his head. When he ducks to slow down, she catches him.

“I thought you could move faster!” she laughs, fingers threaded in his hair. She ruffles, and Shoyo slows for a bit, liking the feeling of her fingertips against his scalp.

“I can,” he says, but his head twitches without his permission. Hitoka brings her hand back.

“You’re like a dog,” she says, and giggles.

“Woof,” he replies.

Hitoka laughs, and Shoyo wiggles his head. “I’ve got paint all over my hair, don’t I?”

“You do.”

They duck out from under the table. Shoyo glances into the mirror that they usually use for self-portraits. The tips of his hair are mostly colored, and he looks like Hitoka had splashed a rainbow into his hair, especially through the sunlight from the window. He grins; he kind of likes it.

Hitoka rinses her hands in the sink. “Sit still for a minute,” she says. “I’m going to paint you.”

She dries her hands off on Shoyo’s shirt and lifts it over his shoulders and head. Her fingers are warm but the paint is cold and it makes him shiver when she colors his collar bones navy blue. She accents each of his ribs slowly. It tickles but he tries not to squirm.

“I want to paint you, too!” Shoyo says. Hitoka laughs as he helps her get out of her t-shirt and bra. Neither of them hears Shoyo’s phone buzz across the room.

Shoyo creates a series of warm-colored spirals all around her shoulders. His light touch raises the hair on Hitoka’s arms.

“What colors are you using on my back?” she asks. Shoyo turns her back to the mirror so she can see. He has used all sorts of bright contrasting colors, pinks and greens and a splash of purple. It inspires her to continue working on Shoyo’s torso, so they paint facing each other.

Tobio finds them like this fifteen minutes later, focused on each others’ skin. He admires the blue green scales on Shoyo’s back (the style is very Hitoka), and the red streaks fanning over her breasts are loud enough to be the work of Shoyo. He shouldn’t be surprised to find them together like this. Not after considering how they’ve become notorious for walking around Hitoka’s dorm in various states of undress. He remains amused.

Tobio spies Hitoka’s camera bag in the corner of the room, and knows that he has to capture them like this, entranced. He takes it out and snaps a shot before they hear him coming. He takes another of their smiles as they realize that he is there.

“Kageyama!” says Shoyo. The paint is still drying on his body, and he knows Tobio wouldn’t join him if Shoyo tried to draw on him, would just shy away and talk about washing himself off instead. “When did you get here?”

“Just a while ago,” Tobio replies. “Keep going.”

Shoyo giggles, but Hitoka chirps, “Okay,” and starts drawing orange and yellow waves down Shoyo’s side. She gets to the elastic of his shorts, and dips her fingers down there.

Shoyo giggles. “I forgot to get here,” he says, and paints a large round heart shape around Hitoka’s bellybutton. He colors it in, gets in some red.

Hitoka says, “Take your shorts off.”

Tobio’s still watching. He snaps another photo as Shoyo is in the middle of shucking off his shorts. He struggles with the underwear, Hitoka laughs and helps him. Tobio takes a picture of that, too.

Shoyo helps get Hitoka’s jeans off, and then makes a broad stroke from one end of Hitoka’s hip to the other. Their fingers have mixed up the color of the palettes and the line is mostly red, faded yellows in the background. Hitoka giggles and admires it.

Shoyo quickly wipes his hand off on a towel and kneels in front of Hitoka. He dips his hand in white acrylic and reaches behind her to touch her butt. He leaves white prints down her thighs; they get more and more faded as he reaches her calves. He is about to start detailing her legs in black and gray, but Hitoka has her own agenda.

She turns Shoyo around so she can resume where she left off around his lower back. She pats his thighs with spread fingers, creating horizontal dashes down his sides. She decides that she likes how the paint starts to run.

Tobio can’t believe the mess they are making. With Hitoka’s camera, he gathers evidence of the paint dripped and splattered all over the floor. When he turns it back up to them, Hitoka’s laughing and smearing the leftover paint on Shoyo’s face. Shoyo scrunches his eyes shut.

“What are you doing now?”

“Messing around.” She grins and dips her hands in the yellow. She smacks Shoyo’s butt.

He yelps. “That’s cold!”

“Hold still,” Hitoka says, and turns him around again. He has pink on his hands and intentionally touches her hair. She doesn’t shake him off as she makes colored patterns on his butt, starting with stripes, layering and layering into checkers and lines.

“Let me do you now,” Shoyo says. He faces her again, and she tries to push him back so she can finish the rest of Shoyo’s legs, the colors bleeding into the blacks and whites.

He doesn’t let her, so she just pushes harder until Shoyo falls over. Hitoka lands on his stomach, but makes sure that even though she’s practically sitting on his stomach, she doesn’t touch the red paint on his belly between her legs. Shoyo laughs and flicks blue paint on her nipple. It blurs prettily with the red paint from before.

Tobio shifts. He takes another picture. Hitoka giggles at Shoyo’s light touch and turns to the camera.

“Tobio-chan you have to get full body shots,” she says. She takes Shoyo’s hand to help him up and doesn’t let go until Tobio has taken enough pictures of their work from different angles.

Tobio does. He’s well aware of his dick straining against his pants. Shoyo _definitely_ eyes it, too, but Hitoka either doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything either.

“Kiyoko-san won’t want to cuddle until I’ve showered,” she says, as Tobio takes the final shot.

Shoyo asks, “You have plans with her tonight?”

Hitoka nods. Shoyo looks like he’s about to say something else, when Tobio, despite his obvious erection, says, “How do you two plan on getting back to your dorms like this?”

“We’ll go back like this,” Shoyo says cheerfully, before Hitoka can answer.

Tobio sputters. Hitoka asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! We shouldn’t ruin our clothes like this.” Shoyo gestures to their bodies.

“Maybe we can try to wash ourselves off in the bathroom sinks.”

Shoyo laughs. Even Tobio does, too, because he imagines the three of them in the girls’ bathroom, trying to get Shoyo and Hitoka to fit into the sinks. They would splash Tobio everywhere.

Shoyo says, “That’s a terrible idea,” and Hitoka laughs again.

“I can’t go out like this,” she says, and starts towards the supplies closet. Maybe they have more towels in here somewhere.

“I can!”

Shoyo grabs his canvas and clothes and races out. At least the canvas is big enough to cover his torso and junk. Tobio laughs and stares at his ass before he leaves.

“I’ve got a spare jacket in my bag,” he says, rifling through his messenger bag. “Here.”

Hitoka pulls it on, and it goes down to the middle of her thighs.

“Thanks!” she says. Her smile is big and the insides of the sleeves are stained with orange paint. “I should get going before this paint starts drying too much.”

She takes her bag and a sandwich from the back counter. She pulls out her camera, mentally frames Tobio, and takes the shot. “Bye, Tobio-chan!” she says. Tobio watches her fondly as she heads out the door.

He sighs, and looks around the classroom. There’s paint _everywhere_. He would call Shoyo, but Shoyo is probably halfway to their dorm already and he can’t make him run across campus again.

He gets a sandwich, too, and starts toward the cleaning supplies. The room’s the messiest he’s ever seen it before, but with the colors on the floor and the sunlight cascading through the window, it looks beautiful.

 


End file.
